


Exit Pursued By A Bruised Ego

by Jay_with_Splice



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Character death is mentioned only slightly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-04-07 07:58:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19080799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_with_Splice/pseuds/Jay_with_Splice
Summary: The loyal horses Arthur rode before his fall.





	1. Chapter 1

Anyone who was anyone knew and understood that Arthur Morgan loved his horses. Not just HIS horses, but EVERYONE'S horses from Silver Dollar, to Maggie. Old Boy to the Count. Arthur always treated them with a large amount of love, attention, and respect, brushing their flanks and murmuring quiet praises to them in his deep voice. It's been that way since the very beginning. Hosea had laughed the first time John questioned him about it. Before John joined up, he didn't know how many of them the older outlaw went through nor the basic things about them: gender, breed, names, how or why they weren't around anymore.

But John had known Buckeye, a male Appaloosa. He was a wily, timid thing, always antsy, always on the move. Gunshots made him nervous, yet he would always calm down when Arthur was in sight. Buckeye was still patient, standing quietly as Arthur sat by a river, sketching in that journal of his. He happily took bribes from the girls in camp, crunching on apples or carrots with the rest of the horses in camp. When Buckeye got too old, Arthur willingly sold the horse to a farmer out of a small ranch, just so he could live out his last years in peace. The horse after Buckeye was Boadicea. She was a calm soul with a heart of gold. A Dark-Bay Turkoman with an auburn mane in braids and a tail full of flowers. Her temper was as quick as her wit and twice as brave. Braver than any horse he's met. But she was also kind and patient, even as young Jack tangled his fingers into her tail or mane, or waiting patiently outside of a half-assed bar in some rinky dink town. She wouldn't take anyone on her back if it wasn't Arthur, with certain exceptions. Probably the most loyal of any of them. Her death wasn't just painful for his brother, but it hurt Arthur the most.

That damned Blackwater job.

That damned FERRY. 

Boadicea had charged through fires and gun smoke in her lifetime and all it took was a bullet to bring her down. They had lost her as they fled the Blackwater camp. Shot out from underneath him as they escaped. Didn't even have enough time to say a proper goodbye before Charles was grabbing Arthur and slinging the outlaw onto the back of Taima. 

When they hit the Grizzlies, surrounded by snow that had nearly done them all in, came Lookout, a paint-like Tennessee Walker. Arthur had taken the loving creature for himself just as the widow, Mrs. Adler, nearly took Micah's life for herself. A shame Dutch had stopped her, but they weren't in their lucky phase right now. Lookout loved everybody! And he would show this love by nibbling on people's clothes and hair until they pushed him away. Lookout didn't stay as Arthur's main mount for long, however. It was expected unfortunately, as Arthur's heart still hurt for Boadicea. A few weeks after the gang had made a home of Horseshoe Overlook, Hosea and Arthur had ridden off to Valentine to get supplies for a hunting trip. A few days later, Hosea had come back alone, laughing to himself about the outlaw's new chosen steed. Apparently, Arthur chose the roughest, toughest, and meanest son-of-a-bitch the Valentine stable had to offer. 

And then Arthur rode into camp.

It was an Iron Grey Roan Ardennes, built like a tank and scarred to hell. He had a mean look in his eye that made all horses around him UNEASY. As it turned out, the Ardennes had previously belonged to a Colonel, killed in a battle of some sort. Against the mourning daughter's wishes, his wife sold the loyal creature after it bucked her son off his back. The Ardennes had been sold person to person, stable to stable, before he landed himself in Valentine. Of course, people DID buy the horse before Arthur found him, but they all returned him by the end of the day. _"Too stubborn!"_ Some exclaimed. _"This one bit me!" "Put him down, I say!"_ It wasn't a surprise that the Ardennes had lost all trust in humanity. Yet, the second Arthur's eyes fell on that Ardennes, it was OVER for both of them.

Arthur sold the Shire when he got there, bidding the large steed goodbye and good luck with a friendly pat to his rump. At that point, the stable owner did try to dissuade him from choosing the horse, but the outlaw was determined. In the end, the stable owner let Arthur just....TAKE HIM, placing bets with the stable boys on how long it'd be before Arthur returned. To their surprise, he didn't return until the next day, mid-afternoon, only for Arthur to hook this bastard up with a high-end saddle, bridle, and stirrups. 

At camp, the Ardennes was angry and stubborn and didn't come near when Arthur tried to beckon him close. Occasionally, someone would catch the old warhorse BUCKING the old outlaw off his back. Arthur Morgan was stubborn though; he never gave up on this horse. Years of mistrust were worn across the Ardenne's flank: scars, bullet wounds and other. He was highly agitated at all times, huffing and stomping around. He was kept tied up at a hitching post in the beginning. Arthur worked with him often, riding him outside of camp and clinging to him as he bucked and reared until he wore himself out. They continued with this routine from the second Arthur woke up to when Pearson called for dinner.

Kieran even offered some tips once he was released from the tree.

His SHINING MOMENT, however, was when O'Driscolls had stopped the two of them on a covered bridge to rob them. The second a hand grabbed the reins and a gun was JABBED into Arthur's face did the Ardennes react. The horse SNAPPED at the hand; the O'Driscoll screamed bloody murder as fingers were BITTEN OFF. Arthur ended his screaming with one bullet, putting two more into the others before continuing on with his day, practically GLOWING knowing he was finally getting somewhere with the grumpy old bastard. It had taken awhile, but the two of them grew incredibly close. He was loyal and strong, brave enough to charge into gunfire to get Arthur out. It dawned on John, after the train robbery, that he'd never asked what the Ardennes' name was.

Arthur named him Ferdinand.

Ferdinand was there when they escaped Horseshoe Overlook. He was still a grouchy asshole, glaring heatedly at the other men in the camp. But underneath that gruff exterior, there was a kind soul, gentle with little Jack and the girls. He would stand complacent when Kieran brushed him down, but John felt it was only because the ex O'Driscoll fed him peppermints and other treats when he thought no one was looking. He was incredibly loyal to the man who got him out of that stable; the man who had never given up on him. Loyal to the point that he became agitated when someone who wasn't Arthur hopped aboard his back.

THE WHOLE CAMP SAW MICAH GET BUCKED INTO THE MUD.

It was around the time of JUST settling down in Clemons Point did Arthur get his second horse. He packed Ferdinand up with warm clothes, extra provisions, and told Hosea that he'd be gone for awhile. As always, Hosea nodded and sent him off. John got antsy on the fourth day but Abigail told him not to worry. Not that it really helped. On the dawn of the second week, Arthur came riding into camp on a horse that had Dutch laughing harder than he had in a real long time.

Her white coat practically glowed in the sun, dark eyes observant and full of fire as she took in her surroundings. "And Arabian..." Micah mocked. "-trying to be like daddy Dutch more each day-" He didn't get to finish his statement before Arthur was ON HIM. She'd been named Ladybird as John later found out. A wild Arabian she had been, living out at Lake Isabella, dodging wolves and bears for her whole life. So this was a new experience for her, having to deal with a whole new brand of monsters. But she calmed down much quicker than Ferdinand had, yet she still held her firey, wild spirit inside of her. Ladybird was more social too, laying with the others horses and often poking her head into camp to check on things. She was very time oriented. If Ladybird wasn't fed on time, she'd make SURE they knew about it. Miss Grimshaw had often yelled at Arthur for his horse being in camp. One of the more interesting things, however, is how different she and Ferdinand were from each other.

Where Ferdinand was brave and sturdy, Ladybird was the perfect horse for getaways. Where Ladybird was a fit to be a proper lady, Ferdinand was rugged and angry and violent. One was social and loving, the other fierce but loyal. Surprisingly, the two horses got along fabulously. When Arthur rode one out of camp, the other would become nervous and slightly agitated until they returned. Abigail claimed the two horses LOVED each other. John didn't want to agree. Arthur kept both of them at camp with him, not ever wanting to split the two of them apart. The two became an known presence in the Van der Linde camp.

But when Arthur returned from Guarma and he and Sadie saved John from Sisika Penitentiary, John was SCARED to find Ladybird missing, fearing the worse. She was okay, thankfully, because Arthur admitted to boarding her at a stable (he didn't say which one) out of fear of something happening to her now that all of this was slowly going belly up. Arthur rode Ferdinand and Ferdinand alone, claiming that he needed a strong, brave horse that would stay by his side. John noticed the cough that Arthur had, wheezing when he breathed and the younger was already fearing for the worst. Then entered Arthur's third and final horse. A just as angry and grouchy bastard as Ferdinand had been. His name was Buell, but that was all John was able to get from Arthur, other than a sad look that knit across the older outlaw's brow. Buell faced the same fate as Ladybird, put into the same stable as she. Arthur was right to do so. Things escalated. Things got worse. 

As the two of them are racing up a small incline, pushing their horses to the limit in a desperate attempt to escape, Arthur suddenly GASPS out loud as bullets whiz through the air and STRIKE Old Boy and Ferdinand. The two of them are thrown to the ground and a shock of fear races up Arthur's spine as Ferdinand writhes on the ground. Pinkertons standing at the top of the hill are aiming their guns at them, but they're dispatched quickly enough. John wants to keep pushing, but Arthur is already dropping to his knees beside the loyal horse. His forehead is pressed into Ferdinand's neck, hands gently petting the horse's flank. John's own heart clenches at the sight.

He lost Ferdinand the EXACT SAME WAY he lost Boadicea.

But this time, he was given the chance to say goodbye. 

Once he was done, both he and John raced to escape together. But they weren't doing well. Arthur was getting more out of breath the longer time passed. And at his last moment, Arthur had given John the chance to escape from all of this. His satchel was shoved into John's hands, a very familiar hat being placed over his head. Arthur told him to leave. To get out. To LIVE. Heartbreak and sadness was in his eyes, skin sunken and so very ill. John refused at first but Arthur, in his infinite wisdom, asked again. Requested him to go. Demanded him to leave. To survive. 

The younger outlaw escapes that mountain on the back of a young Thoroughbred that he found standing quietly in the trees, blood on her saddle. The gunshots breaking off into a silence in the distance had only made John's heart clench. His brother was gone. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue:
> 
> A look into John's horses as he treks ever forward building a new life.

_**~Years Later~** _

Rachel was a good horse.

Since the day he took her off that mountain and rode all the way to Copperhead Landing, she had been viewed as an official member of the Marston Family. Rachel had been young that day he grabbed her; she looked so lonely where she was there, blood on her saddle and practically dancing on her hooves from nervousness. She belonged to one of the Pinkertons, a Seal Brown Thoroughbred with little white socks on her back legs.

John loved Rachel. She weren't an Old Boy but she still was a wonderful and loyal mare. In the beginning, of course, she was nervous and skittish around Tilly, Abigail, and the others. There were scars across her legs and John knew instantly that her previous owner wasn't the kindest of men. But as the years passed, her personality really flourished. When those Laramie Boys tried to steal his cart back at Pronghorn Ranch, Rachel made them look like FOOLS. They tried to spur her into moving, but she didn't. So John had rolled up the cuffs of his shirt and got those two assholes OFF his wagon and kicked them off ranch grounds.

She'd been left behind the day Abigail and Jack left too.

The Thoroughbred was a godsend, easily chasing away John's loneliness during those months. She'd been by his side the entire time: when he left Pronghorn Ranch, stepped OUT of his comfort zone to get a loan, and met up with Uncle and Charles all at once. It was tough work between the bounty-hunting with Sadie and the house-building. Uncle had even endured horrible burns from the Skinner Brothers in that time.

Rachel had been so brave as they escaped from Tall Trees, hooves driving into the muddy earth with each gallop. As a classified racehorse, she easily got the both of them out of there while John made sure Uncle and Charles stayed ahead of him as they rushed back towards Beecher's Hope. The Skinners didn't dare try to attack them at the ranch again, ESPECIALLY SO when John captured Elias Green and Otis Skinner and claimed the bounties. Their leaders arrested and scheduled to hang, the remaining skinners were thrown into pandemonium. Knowing the won't try anything, John happily and trustfully left Beecher's Hope in their care so he could head back down through New Austin, having heard from the Sheriff of Blackwater that the man in charge down in Tumbleweed needed some help himself.

Dressed lightly, John and Rachel rode all the way down to Tumbleweed, being stopped only a few times by those Del Lobos. The sheriff though? A real piece of work, but the pay was good, so he didn't question his...uniqueness. Capturing that first bounty was easy, but Rachel was getting exhausted in all this heat, so after he dropped the bounty off, he took his trusty mare to the stable for her to cool off.

It's here that he overhears people talking.

The stable owner is talking to someone, chatting about a rare mustang that lived out by Rio Del Lobo Rock. The strange with the owner laughs, "We're gonna find it! Imagine how much it would sell for! Maybe even get it to the Del Lobos? They'd DEFINITELY buy it!" And with those words, John is absolutely set on finding that Mustang before anyone else.

He leaves an hour later, pushing his Thoroughbred across that desert. Fort Mercer was familiar, but he didn't see anyone out on those cliffs. There were numerous pronghorn scattered about, grazing peacefully. John was pleased that he had gotten here before anyone else. Even MORE so for finding a new horse. 

Sure enough, he DID end up finding the rare Tiger Stripe Mustang out here. It was just about dusk when John noticed her grazing, minding her own business. This...is where things got a bit complicated. John had never broken a wild horse before. All horses he had previously owned were either bought or stolen. Arthur had previously TRIED to teach him, but the first time he was bucked into the mud, John refused to try again.

Yet, all of the horses, wild or no, normally let people walk up to them ONLY IF they took it nice and slow. So he took this approach, trying to remember everything that Arthur told him.

When John called out to her, she looked at him and reminded John so much of Ladybird in that moment. 

She was antsy and suspicious, but held her ground as this was her home and she shan't be ran out of it. Her tiger stripes were pretty hard to see, only striking across her legs is messy stripes. In fact, he could have totally mistaken her for a normal mustang if he hadn't taken a closer look. Still, the mustang stood patiently as John crept closer, cooing sweet praises to her.

"Laaaadyyy...."

The first time he hopped aboard her back, he realized a few things: 1.) riding bareback sucked. 2.) He should have listened closer to Arthur. and 3.) falling off a horse into a jagged mountainscape was not ideal. She bolted when he fell and John had to chase her down, calling for her to stop. The Mustang bucked him off her back a total of 5 times before he managed to break her. 

Thus, Guinevere joined the team!

Guinevere was huffy and furious about this change of events, but John just pat her flank and praised her more. He tied her to Rachel to keep her steady and NEAR when he camped out that night, riding back to Tumbleweed Stable the very next morning. He was met by the stranger on the way, surrounded by DEL LOBOS, who was pissed that someone had beat them to the Mustang. Having dealt with them before, he dispatched them swiftly and decided to take Guinevere back to Blackwater instead. 

She reminded him an awful lot of Ladybird, except she had a lot more stubborness in her small body. Guinevere had the equivelence of 'little dog syndrome' that happened in horses, bossing the others around as if she were higher and mightier than the rest of the horses. Her grump was nearly as bad as...as Ferdinand's if John was being completely honest. A part of him was starting to believe that she was his reincarnation. For as angry and grumpy as she was? She was a GREAT horse; she would follow Jack and Rufus around when he and Abigail showed back up. She also had a habit (which John loved) that involved startling Uncle awake whenever she could. Glad to know she wanted the lazy, drunk fool to work too.

For awhile, everything was good. Jack and Abigail were back, Beecher's Hope was GOING SOMEWHERE, and everyone talked and joked around happy and carefree. They were a FAMILY. And John couldn't ever ask for anything more.

*~00~*

"John Marston!" Abigail's voice shoots faster than any quickdraw he's seen right out of the house. She bustles out right after, drying her hands on a spare towel. When she spots her husband sitting on the porch, shifting through pages of Arthur's...HIS journal, she smiles. "There you are! This where you've been?"

"Mrs. Marston." John flashes her a grin, patting the bench beside him, offering her a place to sit. She takes it, leaning into his side and peering down at the journal in his lap. "Been here awhile. Thinking-"

"Is that why I've been smelling smoke?" Abigail teases and John gives her a light push to her arm. They both laugh.

"Be nice-" John turns a page, two sets of eyes falling on a picture of a stable. It was one of the last drawings that Arthur had done and one of the only ones he signed. 'Arthur Callaghan'. Along the edges of the drawing was a familiar scrawl that had come from Jack in his younger years. "I'm wonderin' why Arthur drew a regular old stable..." 

Footsteps rattling up the porch drew their attention, "He drew that stable because he made friends with the owner there." Charles smiles at the two of them. "Back when we were at Beaver's Hollow." 

"When did that happen?" John leans forward, giving the other man a better look at the picture. "Dutch kept making Arthur do _so much_."

"Right before rescuing your from Sisika." John freezes at those words. He clearly remembered the fear when he didn't see Ladybird at camp and Arthur's curt reply that she was FINE. John's hands are grabbing for his map, opening it to let Charles have a look. "This one here. Right above Van Horn." 

Abigail sends John a look. John sends one right back at her. Charles, in the meantime, is looking between them curiously. He offers cautiously to Abigail that he could accompany John down there if it made her feel better. She gives a sigh of resignation and she waves them off.

John presses a kiss to her cheek, practically darting off the porch and slinging a leg over Guinevere's saddle and both men take off with one last goodbye.

They surge over the Great Plains, through the beauty of the Heartlands and briefly through the swamps of Lemoyne, and the ex outlaws could feel a strange weight in their chests. Not once they were stopped by any of the surviving members of any gangs out in this area, unless it came to listening to the drunken babble of the Laramie Boys' singing as they darted by one of their camps. 

And when they rode up to the unfamiliar stable, they found an older man sitting outside. A grey beard, silver locks on his head and tired eyes; the man eyed them warily as they rode up to the stable doors nice and slow. "Can I help you gentlemen?" The stable owner asks them. John slides off Guinevere's back, giving her a pat.

"I think you knew a friend of our's..." John starts, retrieving the journal from Arthur's old, ratty satchel. He flips open to the appropriate page, the picture of the stable, and lets the man have a look at it. "A mister Arthur...Callaghan?" The old man's eyes nearly light up at the mention of the name. The man takes a seat, patting the bench beside him. They take it. "How did the two of you meet?"

"Mister Callaghan happened upon my stable when some Murfree Brood tried robbing me of my horses'n goats. Nearly killed my family and he rode in like a Holy Figure and shot all'a them Broods dead." A young woman takes a peek outside, squinting at the two men from the safety of the cozy home's door. Her father waves her off, a silent answer that the two of them are all right. "Those Murfree could have very easily killed all of us, but we was lucky to get away that night with our lives and a few dead goats..."

John and Charles both listened to the man intently, wondering how lucky this family had been that day. Arthur had just happened to be there to save the day. He kept this family SAFE. He seemed to be a lucky, yet unlucky man in the last weeks of his life...

 "The last time I saw him, he came into the stable on a beautiful Dutch Warmblood and told me, years from now, someone would show up at my doors and ask about him." Both of them look up sharply at the mention of the Warmblood. But the stable owner remains calm and quiet, almost sad. "He told me he weren't doing so well. That he trusted me'n my family to take care of his horses." He stands and heads towards the stable doors. "Mister Callaghan clarified that THAT someone would ask of him, rather than the two horses that I kept safe for him. Many'a times people would come into my stable and ask of them and many'a times I turned them away." He motions for them to follow, and they do with some urgency. "Unfortunately...I am sad to announce...that one of them is gone..."

"Gone?" Charles murmurs, scared to hear the answer.

"A storm rolloed through a few years ago. Real bad..." He stops just outside, laying his hands on the sturdy surface. "Miss Ladybird got spooked real horribly. Broke right out of her stall. I...we all searched far and wide for her fer weeks-" John's heart clenches as the owner pushed the doors open and entered. "Buell however-"

Inside, there were numerous horses and John, while he himself hadn't known the horse personally (and simply read ALL about him), nearly sobbed in relief when he saw the familiar golden goat of the Dutch Warmblood. Still the grumpy asshole he remembered, the horse huffed angrily at new faces near his stall while Charles reassured that the man had done his best. That Ladybird would have been very old by now, possibly even GONE since Arthur had found her in her older years. The relief floods the old man's bones and he slumps carefully against the nearest wall. Buell, meanwhile, tosses his head indignantly when John reaches out to touch him.

"Sad to know he really is gone..." The owner hums sadly. "And that I could not keep the both of them safe." Turning to a young man that had come walking in, possibly his son, he speaks kindly to him and asks him to take Buell outside and hitch him up to Guinevere. He does, smiling as he works and making sure to keep his hands away from the horses' snapping teeth. The owner walks them back outside, looking frailer than he had when they originally rode up. John reaches into his wallet to grab money, to give him SOMETHING for keeping Buell safe for all these years, but the man denies it with a shake of his head.

"No. Any friend of Arthur's is a friend of mine." He seemed happy to get all of those emotions off his mind as John and Charles clambered back up onto their respective mounts. Both promise him to come and visit him again he replies with another laugh. "You gentleman don't even know my name! Would be SILLY for you two to come back after us only just meeting."

John shrugs his shoulders. "Well, what IS your name?" Arthur hadn't ever written it inside the journal. The man smiles lightly, crossing his arms over his chest and raising a brow at the two of them.

"That ruins the surprise, doesn't it? I'll tell ya both the next time. You take care of that glorious bastard." John tilts his hat right back at him, giving a solid and firm nod.

"Yessir."

**Author's Note:**

> All of these horses that are mentioned are horses that I used during Arthur's part of the story. For this, however, I didn't get Buell until the Epilogue because I wanted to actually HAVE him during the end of the game. The rest of them are as they are.


End file.
